


Losing For Free

by HisMomoness



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisMomoness/pseuds/HisMomoness
Summary: [In moments, the Beedrill is calm. A soft click of a button and it turns, wanders away as if nothing had ever happened.Zuko can still hear Inu snarling under the pounding that’s started in his head.“You good?” the guy asks.Zuko stares at him, taking in the blue outfit that’s actually a uniform. Something clicks. “You’re a ranger,” he says.“Obviously. You’re a trainer. And an ignorant one, at that. What the hell do you think you were doing?”]Sokka's a ranger just doing his best to keep stuff together in his struggling region. Zuko's a trainer looking for his honour, not a map in sight.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is very different from anything I've written before, but it's just *right there*. You can only look at so much beautiful fanart of the Gaang with pokemon and not do something about it, you know?
> 
> That said, I'm not an expert. Did my best, but please forgive any inaccuracies.

Zuko steps off the boat and breathes a sigh of relief. 

Relief at being on land after three weeks, certainly. But also the heady relief that comes with realizing Zuko is closer than ever to finding his ticket home. 

The captain and a couple of crew members give him a cheery smile as he walks off the gangway. He doesn’t return the pleasantries. He’s already scoping the port, trying to decide where the best place to stock up and get directions might be. A massive Lapras floating at the end of the dock trills a greeting to a few kids who run up to it, hands outstretched, but Zuko doesn’t see a trainer nearby. He watches for a moment, allowing himself a brief respite in the sun, before turning away.

He needs supplies. He’d packed plenty before the trip here but he’s nearly out now, most having been wasted on pokémon that weren’t even his. The harbour area is crowded, and Zuko ducks his head once he’s picked a path away from the water and toward what appears to be a market square of some kind. He walks quickly, doing his best to dodge the people milling around.

His shoulder gets bumped, hard, and Zuko turns quickly, mouth already open to tell whoever it is to watch themselves— 

“Hey, stranger,” Jet says. 

Zuko scowls up at the taller boy. “What do you want?”

“Good mood today, I see. Not getting enough sleep lately?”

_Asshole._ Jet knows full well Zuko hasn’t been sleeping because neither of them have been sleeping. Because Jet insists on being an asshole. One with a use, granted, but Zuko would never tell him that he is anything close to competent. Most of the time it’s not true, anyway.

“Screw off.”

“Never thought you’d ask, darling.”

Zuko pinches his nose and starts walking again. “Either tell me what you want or go away. Decide quickly.”

“Alright, alright. I figure we’ll be better off travelling together. We made a pretty good team back there, so why not keep the good times rolling?”

They were not, for Zuko, good times. Nor does he want to continue _rolling_ with Jet. “No. We’re done. Have a nice life.”

“ _Lee_ ,” Jet whines. It drives a spike into Zuko’s temple. “Come on. We had fun! You’re new here, and I could show you the ropes.”

Zuko ignores him until an arm snakes around his shoulders. He twists fast, grabs the front of Jet’s shirt to haul him nose to nose. Jet’s breathing a little hard, his eyes wide with a rare flash of surprise before he schools his face back into his patented smarmy expression. 

“I said, _screw off_. Go do whatever it is you came here to do. We got what we needed from working together.”

Zuko shoves him away, rough enough to get his message through Jet’s thick skull but not so rough as to draw more attention from the small crowd around them. Jet straightens himself with a smirk. Then he tips an invisible hat to Zuko and saunters off, confident as ever. 

Zuko wishes this region were bigger. Like, a lot bigger. 

But no, bigger means more time to find what he came here for. 

Zuko beelines out of the harbour and into the small city. He garners curious looks as he passes groups of people, most with a pokémon at their side. Not unusual, but the barely-concealed whispering rankles a little.

It’s one thing to look and another thing entirely to comment. 

He shifts his bag on his shoulder, ducks his head a little, and speeds up his walking. There are no telltale blue roofs in his vicinity, but the shop up ahead should do the trick based on what he can see through the window.

The clerk smiles up from his magazine as Zuko enters, the tinkling of a small bell announcing him. The shop is otherwise empty. Zuko grabs a few pieces of produce and a couple cans of food before moving to the counter. 

“Five potions,” he orders. “Strongest ones you’ve got. And all your burn heals.”

The clerk laughs a little and starts ringing up the other items. Zuko glares at him. When the clerk catches Zuko’s eye, he quiets and shakes his head. 

“Sorry, thought that was a joke.”

“No joke. I need five.”

The clerk looks thoroughly confused and a little nervous. “Um, sorry, kid. We don’t sell that kind of thing here. If you got a pokémon that needs looking after, the base a few blocks up is probably your best bet.”

What the hell kind of place doesn’t sell potions?

“Fine,” Zuko grumbles. “Just these, then.”

He pays and stuffs the food into his bag before adding, “Got a map?”

* * *

Armonia is tiny. 

This should be easy, then.

Zuko thinks he can make it through to the west of the region fairly quickly, maybe a few days of travel. Two if he’s lucky. It makes sense to start there, since that’s where he’s heard the most recent rumblings of activity. He should be able to do it without his usual supplies, too, assuming the weather holds up and there’s no surprises. 

There are always surprises. Why is Zuko always surprised by this?

He’s not lucky.

He’s been on the trail for less than half the day when he spots some berries. They’re ripe and sweet looking, something his pokémon will enjoy. They’re a stretch to reach from the path if he doesn’t want to fall into a ravine, but he manages to tug them off the bush without crushing them.

Just as he pulls away, the ground gives a little under his foot and he tumbles. It’s a steep incline, rocky and jagged. He falls gracelessly with a startled cry.

Zuko manages to keep his injuries to a few scrapes and what’s sure to be a nasty bruise on his shin. He’s dazed as he sits up, his head ringing a bit. He rubs his temples and tries to expel the high pitched whine droning in his skull.

It only gets louder. And it’s not coming from his head. 

Zuko glances up just in time to roll away from the incoming barb from a Beedrill. The pokémon is pissed, but it’s mercifully alone. A rare sight. 

It’s always fucking _Beedrill._

Another jab strikes past his head, close enough that he can feel his hair ruffle. Zuko fumbles for his belt, latches onto the first pokéball there and flings it out. 

Inu snarls, already crouched in front of Zuko and ready to spring. 

“Careful,” Zuko tells her. “Just a little to scare it off, okay?”

The Arcanine obliges, stepping forward and huffing a small breath of fire. It should be more than enough to startle away any wild bug types. 

Not this one, apparently. Another stinging attack gets aimed at Inu, too fast for her to dodge. She yelps as it strikes her side, then recovers and lunges forward. 

She’s nearly always raring for a battle. Zuko’s used to reeling her in, like an extension of his own temper, but he’s happy to let her have at it now. 

That Beedrill wants a fight? Fine. 

“Go, girl,” he says.

Inu wastes no time letting out a steady stream of flame, now aimed at the wild pokémon and not holding back. 

Distantly, Zuko hears shouting. 

He hasn’t seen anyone on the trail this entire morning. Whoever it is can wait. The Beedrill is still coming for Inu, angrier than ever. Zuko tries fishing an empty pokéball out of his bag if only to get the thing off their backs when his Arcanine gets blasted sideways and off her feet by a hard jet of water. 

“I said, _stop_ ,” a male voice calls. 

Inu’s back on her feet with a snarl to match the one Zuko lets out. She’s favouring her left front paw, Zuko notes. 

He turns to see a Wartortle standing between Inu and the Beedrill, looking every bit as annoyed as Zuko feels. 

Somebody took a cheap shot at his pokémon, and they’re going to regret it. 

“Enough already!” the voice shouts, closer. The Wartortle crosses its arms as someone finally reaches them. It’s a boy who can’t be older than Zuko—he slows from his flat out run to stop beside his Wartortle. He’s heaving for breath but doesn’t spare a second glance at the situation before glaring at Zuko. 

“Dude, you can’t—”

Beedrill lets loose a barrage of rapid barbs that strike the Wartortle and the boy. They fall in a heap with a mingled cry. Inu looks back at Zuko, waiting for another command. 

“Flamethrower,” he tells her. Time to end this—they’ve been practicing this move and it’s not going well, but this Beedrill seriously needs to fuck off. 

“No!” the boy shouts. He’s up before his Wartortle, the attack only having caught his lower legs. It still looks bad. 

Somehow, Zuko’s not feeling very sympathetic. 

“Easy there,” the guy says. Zuko’s about to yell a retort when he realizes he’s not the one being spoken to. The Beedrill cocks its head, as if waiting for another opening. “Easy,” the guy repeats. “I’m sure this was an accident. No need to fight about it. Hey, throw those berries his way.”

“What?” Zuko asks. He hadn’t realized he was still holding them. 

The guy gives him a pointed look, hands raised in a placating gesture before the wild pokémon. “Give him the berries.”

Zuko scowls but throws the handful of smushed berries towards the pokémon, careful not to hit it with any. The bug snatches them from the ground.

The boy sighs. “Looks like that’s what it was,” he says. “Good thing—”

He cuts himself off as Inu growls and gives a hard swipe of her paw in the pokémon’s direction. She’d gotten tired of waiting, impatient as her trainer. Beedrill doesn’t take kindly to the attack. The Arcanine catches her own mass of poison darts in the side and yelps again. 

Zuko reaches for another pokéball at his belt. He startles as his hand gets batted away, the boy having moved closer to his side. 

“Capture on,” he mutters, bitter and resigned. 

It doesn’t take long. Zuko watches with a befuddled fascination as the guy switches open a device on his arm and sends out a strange disc that wraps the pokémon in a line of some sort, controlling it with a few flicks of his wrist and a small...wand?

Weird. But apparently, effective. 

In moments, the Beedrill is calm. A soft click of a button and it turns, wanders away as if nothing had ever happened. 

Zuko can still hear Inu snarling under the pounding that’s started in his head. 

“You good?” the guy asks. 

Zuko stares at him, taking in the blue outfit that’s actually a uniform. Something clicks. “You’re a ranger,” he says.

“Obviously. You’re a trainer. And an ignorant one, at that. What the hell do you think you were _doing_?”

Zuko doesn’t answer until he’s pulled two potions and a towel from his bag. He sits and motions Inu over to him. She lies down easily, her head heavy in Zuko’s lap as he buries his fingers into her ruff and starts applying the potion to her side. She sighs a low whine and closes her eyes.

Zuko can bring himself to speak now that she’s okay. “What I was _doing_ was minding my own business until we were attacked.”

“You can’t just retaliate that way,” the ranger says. He drops onto the ground a few feet away, pulling his Wartortle closer.

“Why not? Inu can handle herself.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that we don’t fight wild pokémon around here, not when they’re just scared and defending themselves. And we don’t _catch_ them," he adds, nodding to the empty ball that's rolled from his bag. 

Zuko scoffs. He’d heard Armonia was different, but this is just ridiculous. 

“So no catching. You just, what, spin a little thread around them and everyone goes on their merry way?”

“It’s a styler. And yes. Essentially, that is what we do.”

“Seems an odd way to go about it.”

“You’d rather throw balls at them at every opportunity?”

“It’s been working so far.”

Sokka sighs. “Our way works just fine, too. It lets us share our intentions with pokémon while letting them maintain free will. They always choose to help us, or not.”

Zuko’s immediately defensive. “Trainers don’t _force_ their pokémon to do anything they don’t want to. Not the good ones.”

“I never said they do.”

A heavy silence settles. The Arcanine in Zuko’s lap is half asleep and resting easy, though she’ll need a good brushing later. The ranger and his Wartortle are still covered in scrapes, and worse, from Beedrill’s attack. 

“Here,” Zuko mutters, holding out the second potion. It’s his last one. “Half for him and half for your legs. Should be enough to hold you over until you get somewhere to rest.”

“Thanks.” He takes the potion and fumbles a little with applying it— _all_ of it—to the Wartortle. Zuko watches from the corner of his eye to make sure he’s done it decently, but he manages fine. 

Wartortle eyes Zuko suspiciously. Zuko raises his brow at the pokémon. 

“You good?” he asks the ranger, after a minute. The guy’s on the ground fully now, legs splayed out and head lolled to the side in the dirt. There’s mud staining the blue of his uniform and one pant leg is nearly gone, blood and gunk caking his skin beneath the shredded fabric.

“Yeah. Wiped is all.” He cracks an eye to look at Zuko. “I’m Sokka. You got a name?”

He briefly considers providing his usual alibi, the one that’s gotten him through two regions without incident. Armonia is so far from the others, though, and nobody here will recognize him. “Zuko,” he says, finally. 

“Well, it wasn’t exactly _nice_ to meet you, Zuko. But I guess I’m glad you’re not pinned to a tree.” Sokka stands, wincing a little when he puts weight on his right leg. He helps Wartortle up and brushes them both off further before extending a hand to help Zuko. 

Inu lifts her lip in a warning and the hand is quickly withdrawn. 

Zuko pushes her off his lap and stands, then calls her back to her ball to rest. “It’ll be easier for that Wartortle if you call him back and get him to a center. Quickly, preferably. It was a hard hit.”

Sokka knits his brows. “He doesn’t have a ball. He’s my partner. Like I said, that’s not how we do things here.”

That still doesn’t make a lot of sense, but Zuko has places to be. 

“Whatever. Thanks, I guess, for your help,” he mutters, and starts back down the path. He’ll have to backtrack a little now, after that fall. Annoying, though he should still be able to make decent headway before setting up camp. 

“Uh. Sorry, pal. No. You’re gonna have to come with me. I can’t let you wander around with those,” Sokka says, nodding to the pokéballs on Zuko’s belt. 

“My pokémon aren’t going anywhere,” he snarls, hand instinctively covering the balls. 

Sokka looks immediately apologetic. “No! Shit, sorry, didn’t mean it that way. I just meant I have some questions for you. You’ll have to come back to the base in Harbour Town with me.”

“I just came from there. That’s the opposite direction of where I need to go.”

“Too bad,” Sokka shrugs. 

Zuko wants to punch him. He settles for walking in a wide arc around him.

Sokka steps into his path. “Don’t make me use this on you,” he says, brandishing the styler on his arm. 

Zuko rolls his eyes. “No way that would work.” 

“Wanna find out? Because I have some feelings to communicate to you, and they’re sure as hell not friendly,” Sokka says, low and dangerous even as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Look, I need to get going. Run along and get back to whatever it is you rangers do. And take care of your Wartortle,” he adds, gruff. It’s not the _pokémon_ that’s getting in his way. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

* * *

The stylers do not, in fact, work on humans. 

What works is Wartortle knocking Zuko off his feet with a water gun attack just long enough for Sokka to grab his middle and pin him on the ground. He’s stronger than he looks, and a better fighter, too, because he manages to get Zuko’s wrists tied behind him with relative ease. He slips off Zuko’s belt and wraps it onto his own hips, ignoring Zuko’s protests as he’s hauled back to his feet.

Sokka shoulders Zuko’s bag and prods him forward, toward Harbour Town. 

He then proceeds to spend the three hour walk talking. Incessantly. 

Zuko thought Jet was bad. Sokka asks questions. About _him_. 

“Where are you from, Zuko?”

Silence.

“So did you, like, get a pokémon as soon as you turned ten? Or before that?”

Silence. 

“What’s it like in their balls, do you know?”

Silence. 

“Hmm. Not sure if Kinaak would like being cooped up like that.”

Silence. 

“Do you have to do the gym matches when you become a trainer? What if you don’t want to go that route? Wait, did _you_ already do them?”

Zuko throws his head back and groans. “Oh my god. _Stop._ ”

Sokka—the bastard—laughs and elbows Zuko in the side. “It’ll be more fun if you answer me.”

“No part of this is fun.”

“Yeah, because you’re not playing along.”

“You’ve arrested me for no reason. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Sokka frowns. “I’m not the police. You’re not really arrested, technically. I just have some questions, and I would rather do this at the base.”

Zuko groans again and tugs at the bonds on his wrists. “Can you at least untie me?”

“Not while my leg hurts like hell and you can outrun me.”

“I’ll go with you, no problems.”

“Sorry buddy, but excuse me if I don’t trust your word for shit.”

“This is harassment,” Zuko says. It’s dangerously close to a whine, but he can’t be bothered. He needs to _go._ He doesn’t have time to deal with some stuck-up ranger with an inflated sense of self-importance. 

Sokka only laughs again and starts humming a tune.

* * *

They get more than a few strange looks while walking through the city at dusk looking torn up and muddy, but Sokka only waves cheerily at the passersby and steers them to an area of town Zuko hasn’t seen yet. Their destination is a large building in the western part of the city, the flag waving from the center of its roof visible from several blocks away.

“I’m ho-ome,” Sokka sing-songs as he drags Zuko by the arm into the base. 

A dark-skinned girl who looks suspiciously like Zuko’s captor glances up from the desk and frowns.

“This was not your mission,” she says, pointing at Zuko. “Your mission was to deal with that lady’s missing pokémon.”

“Everyone has been happily reunited, all six Skitty. There may have been tears. Mission cleared, and I’ll have the paperwork done tomorrow.”

“Uh huh. And on the way back you...made a new friend?”

“Yup!” Sokka says at the same time Zuko snaps, “We’re _not_ friends.”

The girl’s lips tip up in a tight smile. “Team meeting or solo chat?” she asks. 

Sokka hums again, considering. His hand is still wrapped around Zuko’s bicep, warm and unyielding. “Solo chat for now, I think. Can you watch Kinaak for a while?”

The Wartortle waddles over to her and she strokes its head. “Of course. Have fun, boys,” she calls.

Sokka leads Zuko past the desk and into an elevator. They only go up one floor, but when the doors ping open there’s a few other rangers milling about in what looks like a lounge area.

“Sokka?” a tall, older man asks as they step into the room. “What have we got here?”

“Nothing to worry about, Bato. Gonna use the office for a bit, if that’s alright. Just give me an hour?”

“Sure thing,” the man agrees. Zuko doesn’t miss the warning look sent his way.

Sokka leads Zuko into a small office. He closes the door behind them and promptly slumps to the floor with a curse. 

Zuko doesn’t like the guy, but he’s not a _total_ asshole either. He can’t help be a little concerned. 

Only a little, though. 

“Hey,” he says. Sokka’s eyes are closed, head tipped back against the door. Zuko nudges him with the toe of his shoe. “Hey. You alright?”

“Sore,” Sokka mutters. “Tired.”

Zuko feels that.

“Untie me. I’ve got more stuff in my bag.”

Sokka groans and stands. He uses a small knife to snap Zuko’s bonds from his wrists and limps over to the desk to throw himself into the chair behind it. 

Zuko rolls his wrists out and lifts the bag Sokka left by the door to put it on the desk. It’s heavy and oversized, not ideal for foot travel—he’d forgotten how heavy it was, and Sokka had carried it for _hours_ on a messed up leg.

“You’re an idiot,” Zuko says, pulling out a small medical kit. It’s for pokémon, but it’ll do. 

“Gee, thanks.”

“You should have gotten me to carry this. Or _said_ something. I’ve got pokémon who could’ve made that trek a lot easier.”

Sokka doesn’t say anything to that, and Zuko peers at him as he crouches to inspect the worst of his legs. 

He hisses and tenses at the first touch of Zuko’s cloth to his shin, then relaxes. “I, uh, may have forgotten? I’m not used to having more than a Wartortle around and didn’t have it in me for another capture, even if we had run into any wild pokémon who could have helped us. And you’d just fallen down a ravine, as far as I could tell. I’m not a jerk.”

That’s debatable, Zuko thinks, but he is steadily earning points to tick the meter away from that label. Zuko sighs and finishes cleaning Sokka’s leg. There’s not only remnants of mud and some green sludge that seems concerning, but gravel and blood caking the worst of the cuts. It can’t feel good after all that walking. Zuko tries to be gentle as he wipes away the grime and pats the angry skin dry. 

He tries to be gentle, but Sokka still winces. 

“You should’ve used that potion on yourself,” he admonishes. “I don’t have any others. Do you have some around here?”

“Not exactly. But someone will fix me up later. This is good for now,” Sokka says. He stretches his leg a little, testing. Then he meets Zuko’s gaze. “Thanks, by the way. Really.”

Zuko glances away and stands, taking a large step back. “Can I go, now?”

“Nope. Still wanna know where you’re from, and what you were doing out there.”

Zuko packs the kit away and lowers himself into the second chair. He’s worse for wear himself, and he really hasn’t been sleeping lately. He’s not going anywhere in the dark after the shitshow that was today, so he might as well rest. 

“Far away. Moved around a bit. I’m here for a change of scenery. I was heading west.”

Sokka watches Zuko’s face the entire time he’s speaking. The blue-eyed gaze is intense. 

Zuko feels uncomfortable lying to him. 

He’s a practiced liar, far better now than he used to be—but that doesn’t mean he _wants_ to lie. Maybe that’s why he’d given the ranger his real name. 

“Armonia’s more of a retirement destination than a young trainer’s,” Sokka says, slowly. “And if your other pokémon are like that Arcanine, they’re probably pretty tough, yeah?”

Zuko frowns but nods. They’re tough because they have to be. He’s not sure what Sokka’s getting at here.

“What have you heard about Armonia?” Sokka asks. “Must’ve been good for you to come all the way out here from _far away_.”

“Not a lot,” Zuko says, honestly. “I only got here today. I’ve learned you don’t have trainers, which is unusual. Not much else.”

Sokka nods. “Yeah. Only rangers and people who have pokémon as pets, in this area. Normally, not much goes on around here. It’s either very nice and serene, or boring as all hell. Depends how you look at it.” Sokka huffs a little, but it’s devoid of real amusement. 

“Interesting,” Zuko deadpans. Sokka shoots him a curious look. 

“It hasn’t been boring lately, though. Lots of natural disasters—small scale and contained, but still destructive. Missing pokémon, taken from houses in the night. Wild pokémon showing up in a rage in cities and destroying monuments, attacking residents out of the blue. Real weird stuff, overall.”

Zuko nods slowly, noncommittal. “And?”

“ _And_ , you’re a suspicious newcomer who I found attacking a wild pokémon and who has a flimsy excuse for being here.”

“It attacked _me_ ,” Zuko snaps. “Believe what you want to believe, but I’m not looking for trouble. Give me my pokémon and I’ll leave.”

Sokka raises a hand as Zuko gets to his feet, then unclips the belt from his waist. Zuko snatches it as soon as Sokka holds it out, ready to run for it. 

Something on the other boy’s face stops him. 

Sokka sighs and runs a hand over a shaved side of his head, brushing back some of the hair that’s fallen from its tie. “Look, man. I’m not trying to get up in your business. But keeping folks around here safe is _my_ business, and I’m doing my job. You seem half decent, so just...can you give me a good reason why you’re in Armonia? Maybe clue me in on where exactly you’re headed?”

Zuko shifts on his feet and has to look away from the pleading eyes boring into his own. “I’m here to see family,” he says, eventually. “I haven’t seen them in a long time. I thought I’d start looking in Gaipan.”

“You don’t _know_ where your family is?” 

“We’re...not close.”

Sokka frowns at him, considering. Finally, he nods. “Alright. We’ll head out in the morning.”

Zuko snaps his head up. “What?”

“We’ll go in the morning. I’ve been meaning to head over to Gaipan for a while, so I’ll escort you.”

“I don’t need an _escort_ ,” Zuko mutters. 

A smile tugs at Sokka’s lips. “That Beedrill might say otherwise.”

_Bastard._

But Zuko _does_ need to get to Gaipan, and as long as this guy doesn’t slow him down, it might be helpful to have someone who knows the terrain lead the way. 

“Fine,” he says, grudgingly. “Don’t make me regret it. And _don’t_ tie me up again.”

“Deal,” Sokka says, rising from his seat with a muffled groan. He shuffles himself toward the door of the office, gesturing for Zuko to follow. “You got a place to stay?”

“I was planning to camp.”

“Figured. You can sleep in our bunks tonight,” Sokka says. Zuko wants to protest but he’s not _stupid_ —a free bed is better than sleeping on the ground. 

The bunks are just on the other side of this level. Zuko follows Sokka in silence. The small room has six beds, none of which look to be occupied. The other rangers are gone from the lounge, too. At least he’ll have privacy, and room for his pokémon to stretch their legs. 

“Make yourself at home,” Sokka says, then turns to leave. 

Zuko picks the bed farthest from the door and sets his bag onto it. It feels good to just _sit_ , and despite his unease at being in an unfamiliar place, Zuko feels exhausted enough that he has hope for sleep tonight. 

He needs to figure out how the hell he’s going to ditch the ranger as soon as he gets to Gaipan. Then he needs to find what he came here for, and get it to his father. 

Zuko’s eyes are closed when a knock sounds on the open door. He opens them to see Sokka shuffling forward uninvited, a bundle under one arm. He holds it out to Zuko with a small smile.

“Fresh clothes,” he explains. “Since yours got so torn up earlier.”

Zuko unfurls the bundle. “This is a ranger uniform,” he says, nose wrinkling. 

“Yeah, that’s all I had on hand. You and I are about the same size, so I thought…” Sokka trails off with a shrug. 

“Thanks,” Zuko says softly. 

“No problem.” Sokka rubs the back of his neck. “Um, so, listen. I’m trusting you to not run off on me in the middle of the night. I meant what I said when I told you you’re not arrested or anything, but...please don’t make my job harder than it has to be.”

Zuko peers up at him and considers the uncertainty lining his features. Then he turns to his bag and digs through for a small letter, still folded and sealed with a wax insignia. 

“Here,” he says, offering it to Sokka. 

“What’s this?”

“Insurance. I won’t leave without that. Keep it on you, and you’ll know I’ll be here in the morning.”

Sokka inspects the paper. “It’s a letter?”

“It’s important,” Zuko says. “That’s what matters.”

Sokka tucks it into his pocket with a nod. “Okay. See you in the morning, then. Have a good night.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Zuko drags himself to the small washroom to wash and strip, then slumps back onto the hard mattress. One by one, he lets his pokémon out and makes sure they get something to eat. 

Inu gives him an affectionate nudge with her head before taking up a post near the door. Zuko knows that nobody is going to get past her easily, so when the others settle he allows himself to drift into an uneasy sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Sokka did not sleep well. 

He instead lied awake for hours, fingering the crisp letter on his chest. He’d debated trying to find a way to open it and reseal it without Zuko knowing, but had quickly abandoned the prospect. 

Still, he’s so, so curious. 

Sokka _likes_ Zuko. He _wants_ to trust him. But does he? Hell no. 

He’d bullshit his way into getting Zuko back to the base with him. There’s no rule that says trainers can’t travel in Armonia. There’s no reason that Sokka had to drag him back to Harbour Town to ask his questions, which were groundless to begin with. Zuko hadn’t even really been doing anything wrong—nobody catches pokémon here, but Zuko hadn’t known that and he’d stopped when Sokka told him to. Sokka’s not even sure if that’s an actual rule, the no catching thing. It’s just...not done.

There’s no excuse to keep Zuko on a short leash. And yet, Sokka is...interested. He doesn’t want to let Zuko out of his sight. 

Call it instinct. 

“Hey, Katara?” Sokka calls, walking into the base. His sister had been in bed before he’d gotten home, and left before he was up.

“Yeah?” she asks, turning from the massive screen behind her. Ranger IDs and locations flash on the map, marking their presence across the region. 

“Got anything on Zuko?” 

Sokka had texted Katara what little he knew of Zuko to see if she could dig up more info on him. “No, not much. Name, age, trainer status. Nothing you couldn’t find out over coffee.”

Sokka hums. “Okay. Thanks, sis.”

“Be careful with him, Sokka. I don’t have a good feeling about him,” Katara warns. 

“Yeah,” Sokka mutters, turning toward the elevator. “Me neither.”

Sokka pushes open the bunkroom door and immediately finds himself on his back with a snarling Arcanine in his face. 

“Whoa,” he says. “Easy girl.”

“Inu. Down.”

The Arcanine stalks back to Zuko’s side, but Sokka doesn’t rise right away. His heart is hammering—it’s not often he gets startled that way, but he’d definitely been caught off guard. 

Zuko’s scowling face appears over him a moment later. He’s wearing the uniform Sokka left for him, the blue a stark contrast to the red scar that marrs one side of his face.

“Should’ve knocked,” he says, and extends a hand. Sokka takes it, noting the palms with callouses to match his own. Zuko pulls him easily to his feet. 

“It’s my base,” Sokka says. Zuko only smirks a little.

Zuko doesn’t call Inu back to her pokéball as he follows Sokka out of the room. Sokka hates to admit it, but he’s a little nervous to turn his back on the Arcanine. 

They get in the elevator, Sokka crushed between the wall and a massive pile of orange fur, and he reaches around the pokémon to hand Zuko his letter. The other boy takes it without a word. 

The rest of the team has arrived by the time they get downstairs. Bato nods a greeting to Sokka as he takes his place at the front of the semicircle of rangers clutching coffee and wiping sleep from their eyes. Kinaak waddles out of the crowd to stand at Sokka’s side, arms crossed as he stares around the room. 

He’s always been dramatic, that one. 

“Morning, everyone,” Sokka starts. “Before we get going, any pressing updates?”

“No good news on the Waterworks situation,” Bato says. 

“We cleared out a few Grimer, but the mess is still there. And they keep coming—we can’t get ahead of them,” another ranger puts in. 

Sokka frowns. “Any ideas on where they’re coming from?”

“Nothing yet. We’re on it, though. Got a couple of rookies stationed there more or less full time to keep things under control,” Bato says. 

“Yeah, alright. Keep at it. We’re not going to have clean drinking water next month, at this rate.”

“Next _week,_ by my estimate,” Katara interjects. 

Several rangers shift uncomfortably. Not because their leader has been challenged, but because the largest city in the region is struggling to keep its shit together. 

“Katara, get in touch and ask Suki if she can spare a few rangers to help out us for the next little while. Everyone else, you’ve got your assignments, correct?” A chorus of nods and agreement. “Good. I’m leaving for Gaipan today, so Bato and Katara are going to hold down the fort while I’m gone. Anything urgent comes up, call me right away. Everyone clear?”

Another round of nods. “Great, then—”

“Who the hell is this guy?” someone asks. 

_Hahn._ It’s always Hahn. 

He’s jerking a thumb towards Zuko, standing at the back of the crowd and looking distinctly out of place. He’d called Inu back at some point, the massive Arcanine nowhere to be seen. Sokka’s a little shocked he hadn’t made a break for it the second that letter was back in his hands. 

Frantic golden eyes find Sokka’s. “Unlucky traveller,” Sokka says, his eyes never leaving Zuko’s. “He’s tagging along with me to Gaipan.”

“He’s got pokéballs,” Hahn points out. “Don’t you think—”

Sokka waves a hand and cuts him off with a brusque, “Dismissed. Have a good day, everyone.”

He ignores the murmurs that go through the crowd as it disperses. Sokka adjusts his pack and heads for Zuko, and Katara does the same. Sokka shoots her a glare. 

Zuko looks nervously between them, then seemingly decides to ignore Katara. That’s the best choice—Sokka’s an expert at it by now. 

“You didn’t tell me you were the leader here,” Zuko says. 

“Interim leader,” Katara— _so_ helpfully—points out. “Just until our dad gets back from down south.”

“I did say it was my base,” Sokka says, rolling his eyes at her. 

Zuko shrugs. Sokka has the strange urge to get him away from here. 

“Can we help you?” he asks his sister. 

“Just thought I’d introduce myself,” she says, holding a hand out to Zuko. “Katara, Sokka’s sister, operator for the Harbour Town rangers.”

Zuko ignores the hand and tilts his head at her. “Operator?”

“Mission control, basically. Keeps the rest of us in line,” Sokka explains. 

“And keeps you safe by tuning up the styler you so love to abuse,” Katara adds.

Sokka ignores her and tells Zuko, “It’s a great position for her, really. She’s naturally bossy, so mothering the rest of the base is a perfect fit.”

Katara scoffs and starts to protest, but Sokka just plants a kiss on her hair with a whispered goodbye and leads Zuko out of the base. Kinaak’s already outside, waiting at the door. He huffs impatiently as he waddles beside Sokka. 

“Sorry about that,” Sokka says, not looking at Zuko. “Need anything before we head? Did you have something to eat?”

Zuko’s silent except for his footsteps keeping pace with Sokka’s. Sokka looks over. “Hey, man, you good?”

Zuko shrugs again. 

“I’m hungry,” Sokka announces. “Let’s get food.”

Zuko doesn’t speak for the entire process of Sokka ordering two breakfasts to go from the cafe at the edge of town, and he eats with a lackluster approach that could make Sokka cry. He’s not friends with the guy, and he doesn’t need to take care of him, but Sokka knows something’s up. 

Larry’s egg sandwiches are the best in Armonia, and anyone who doesn’t agree is clearly ill or unhinged. 

“Zuko,” he starts, waiting until he’s met with a scowl to continue, “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve hardly spoken all morning. And I know that sandwich deserved a glowing review, and you’re not cold enough to deny it one.” No response. “Come on, man. We have to travel together for a couple days, might as well get to know each other.”

“Let’s just do this quickly,” Zuko mutters.

Sokka sighs. Fine. He can be quiet, and patient. 

He manages for two hours. 

“So,” he says, into the silence between them as they walk, “What did you do back in your home region?”

Zuko peers over, raises his brow. “Trainer.”

“No, obviously I got that. But what does that really _mean_?”

Zuko gives a long suffering sigh and tips his head back. Shaggy black hair falls away from his forehead. He looks like he’s trying to photosynthesize the energy to deal with Sokka. 

Rude. 

“I got Inu when she was a baby and I was eight,” he says, finally. “But you don’t get a trainer’s license until you turn ten, which you knew already. Then you have the option of travelling, catching, training, and doing the gym circuit for badges, if you want. Some people do contests instead.”

“You did all that?”

Zuko pauses for a moment, his head swinging forward to send his gaze to the ground. “No.”

“Oh. So what—”

“If he doesn’t have a pokéball,” Zuko cuts him off with a nod to Kinaak, “What keeps you together?”

“He’s my partner.”

“So you said.”

“So I _meant_ ,” Sokka says, emphatic. “Kinaak and I have been together since just before I left school. He saved my ass, actually. I was shadowing a rookie ranger when we got separated, and I ended up breaking my styler trying to deal with a very upset Rattata. Seriously thought I was going to get my face chewed off before this little Squirtle jumped out of the pond and shooed it off. After that, we just kind of...clicked, I guess. We’ve been together since.”

“But you never caught him?” 

“Never have and never plan to,” Sokka says. “He hangs around because he loves me and I feed him. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

Kinaak spits a small stream of water that soaks the front of Sokka’s uniform. 

Zuko huffs—a laugh, maybe? Sokka’s not sure, but he finds himself smiling at the sound. 

“That’s…” Zuko starts and trails off. Sokka looks over to see him gazing ahead at the trail, eyes unfocused.

“That’s what?” Sokka prods. 

Zuko snaps his gaze back to Sokka. “I, um. I wonder—not all pokémon would do that for their trainers.”

“Yours would,” Sokka says, unthinkingly.

Zuko frowns. “You can’t know that.”

“I do,” Sokka insists. He’s certain of it. “That Arcanine of yours was ready to take me out this morning, no question, without so much as a word from you. That’s loyalty.”

Zuko tilts his head in sort of a funny way, considering Sokka. 

It’s cute. 

Uh oh. Sokka pushes that to the side—this is not the time, place, or person for that nonsense. Keep it together.

“Anyways,” Sokka says, before Zuko can speak, “We’ll be at the Kolau Tunnel soon. Do you want to camp before we get there? It’s a bit tricky once we’re in, so I’d rather not get stuck overnight if we can help it.”

“There’s still plenty of daylight. Let’s get through and camp on the other side.”

“Okay,” Sokka agrees. “I’ve done this trek dozens of times, so we shouldn’t have any issues.”

* * *

They have issues.

First, there’s a minor flood in a lower part of the tunnel and they’re forced to take a detour that Sokka’s not familiar with. Fine, no problem, he manages to harness his impeccable sense of direction and they come out the other side back on track.

Second, Sokka’s leg is already throbbing from the walk, but it’s exacerbated when he steps into a Diglett hole and wrenches himself as he falls. Again, fine, he can handle it. Even if he’s thankful that the dim light doesn’t let Zuko catch the wetness threatening at the corners of his eyes.

Third, there’s a cave in.

They’re walking in silence, no wild pokémon or other travellers in sight. Sokka hears the distant drip of water and a small clatter of rock—probably another Diglett—and goes back to thinking about his favourite noodle shop in Gaipan. Moments later, the cavern around them tremors, then gives a loud groan— _definitely_ not a Diglett. Sokka has just enough time to stop in his tracks and lock eyes with Zuko before the world crashes down around them. 

Sokka thinks he blacks out for a moment. The next thing he’s aware of is a crushing weight on his chest. It’s not rock—it’s Zuko, who pushes off of him and scrambles backward. It’s even darker now, somehow, but Sokka can see blood on his hands. 

That’s when the pain slams into him. Hot, aching pain that starts somewhere in his ribs and has a vice grip on his mind. It’s relentless and unignorable. 

They’re not fine.

“Kinaak,” he croaks. Zuko’s moving and cursing and alive, so that’s one down but the most important one to go. “ _Kinaak_.”

“He’s here,” Zuko whispers. Why is he whispering? “He’s here, he’s good.” Sokka hears some rubble move—he hasn’t even tried to move himself, he knows it’ll be agony—and a few moments later Zuko deposits Kinaak beside him. He’s still tucked into his shell. Sokka reaches out to rub his fingers across it. His head starts pounding in time with his chest, and there’s a sticky warmth on the back of his neck.

“We have to move,” Zuko murmurs. He’s behind Sokka now, hands wrapping beneath his arms to haul him up. The second he pulls, Sokka can’t hold back the near-scream that tears from him. 

“Shh, shh. Fuck, I’m sorry,” Zuko says. “But we need to move, and you have to be quiet.”

“Let’s not move,” Sokka grits out.

“We have to get out of here.”

“Pretty comfy right here, actually.” The cavern is no longer trembling, so Sokka thinks the most immediate threat is gone. He’d rather keep his ribs from spearing into his lungs, if it’s all the same to Zuko. “We’ll call for backup. Katara probably already has a pin on us—other rangers will be here anytime. We should just sit tight.”

“No,” Zuko hisses, moving to face him. “That wasn’t a natural tremor.”

“How do you know? It—”

Zuko slaps a hand over his mouth. Sokka tastes the blood on his palm. His blood or Zuko’s, he’s not sure. Golden eyes glint with concern as they bore into Sokka’s, and he can’t look away. “Listen,” Zuko says, hushed. “Just listen for a second.”

He doesn’t let go of Sokka’s face or his gaze as they both quiet. Sokka’s ears strain to hear past the harsh rattle of his own laboured breathing, but then he catches it. 

Something’s moving. Something big, far enough away now that if Sokka tries he can just barely feel the vibrations, but close enough to be a problem. He grabs Zuko’s hand to pull it away from his face, clasping the warm fingers in his own. 

“I hear it,” he murmurs. “Can we get around this pile? There should be an exit not too far from here. At least gets us out of the tunnel.”

Zuko nods and gently pulls his hand back. Sokka releases it like he’s been burned, having forgotten that he was holding it. Zuko doesn’t react, just grabs a pokéball on his belt and tosses it out. Sokka clamps his eyes shut against the flash of light and blinks them open to see a Medicham hovering over him.

“Uh, hello,” he says.

“Medicham, some help clearing this away, if you can. Please,” Zuko says. The pokémon sets to work immediately, cracking through boulders with ease. Sokka flinches at the ringing that careens around the cavern with every smashed rock, but this is their best option right now. 

Hopefully Medicham can do this quickly, before whatever caused the cave in comes back.

“I’m going to help you up,” Zuko says. Sokka clenches his jaw and nods. Zuko moves towards him slowly, as if afraid he’ll be swatted away. He faces him this time as he slips his arms under both of Sokka’s, then heaves. Sokka groans behind clenched teeth as his ribs protest, the renewed pain sending a wave of nausea through him.

He swallows that back, leans into Zuko and pants. “Shit,” he says, remembering the blood he’d seen on Zuko. “Wait—are _you_ alright?” he asks. 

“Fine. Can you walk?”

Sokka’s chest to chest with Zuko, whose arms are still holding him up on useless legs. He scrambles to get his feet under himself and straighten. It’s wobbly, and he’d much rather be lying down again, but he can manage. “Yeah, I can walk. Just might need a hand.”

Zuko shifts wordlessly so that Sokka’s arm is slung around his shoulders, over his bag. “Medicham, quickly, please,” he says. Medicham makes no indication that it heard other than flinging rock over its shoulder faster.

Loyalty, indeed. 

Something soft brushes Sokka’s elbow. He flinches before he looks down and can make out Kinaak, trembling a little as he hovers at Sokka’s hip. “Hey buddy,” he breathes, reaching out to stroke the Wartortle’s head. “You’re good. We got you. Just need to get out of here, and we’re all good.”

Zuko’s arm tightens around Sokka’s chest, shooting pain through him as a loud rumble echoes around them. Sokka’s heartrate kicks up a gear, blood rushing in his ears. 

“So much for quiet,” Zuko mutters. 

Sokka doesn’t have time to respond before another tremor throws him hard to the side, taking Zuko with him so they both slam awkwardly against the tunnel wall. Sokka can’t stop the cry that’s wrenched from him, and Zuko doesn’t care—he’s pulling them both towards Medicham. The pokémon has cleared a small space in the rubble, weak light filtering through. Zuko pushes Sokka to his knees, urging him forward through the opening. 

“Move,” he hisses. “ _Move_ , quickly.”

Sokka’s body is on fire, his mind fraying and black at the edges of his vision as pain thrums through him. He moves, though, barely processing Zuko at his heels. Arms scoop him up again once he’s on the other side, still in the tunnel but away from the precarious stretch of crumbling rock. 

“Exit’s close,” Sokka says into Zuko’s shoulder, “Just around the bend. I think.”

“You _think_?” Zuko says, but doesn’t slow. 

“Kinaak—”

“He’s right behind you. Keep moving.”

Sokka doesn’t turn to check. He doesn’t trust Zuko for much, but he hasn’t left him to be crushed in the tunnel and he trusts him not to leave Kinaak, either. “Once we get out, there should be a stretch of forest that we can wait in,” Sokka says. “Rangers should be able to find us there.”

It’s Medicham that alerts them to the next tremor, seconds before it happens. The pokémon cries out with alarm and crouches, eyes focused ahead. 

It’s not enough notice to do anything before the tunnel wall opposite them comes crashing down. Zuko pushes Sokka against the far wall, waits just long enough to make sure he can stand on his own before letting him go and calling Medicham back to their position. Kinaak races to Sokka’s side and tucks into his shell once more.

“What the fuck,” Sokka breathes. The tunnel wall’s been reduced to shattered rubble, but there’s a glint of silver beneath the rock. 

“A Steelix,” Zuko says. Even tight with stress, there’s a note of awe in his voice. “Medicham, focus—”

“Wait!” Sokka cries. “No battling.”

Steelix lets out a cry and shakes the remaining rock from itself as it advances, writhing its body erratically. The tremors threaten to shake the teeth from Sokka’s head, but the Steelix seems _off_ , somehow. It’s massive, easily the largest pokémon Sokka has ever seen—if it wanted them crushed, they’d be crushed. Sokka reads more fear than anger in the Steelix’s movements, and it doesn’t seem to actually _want_ to harm them. 

“Sokka, we don’t have time for this!” Zuko shouts. 

It doesn’t seem natural, the thrashing and the way the massive pokémon is crying out. It’s agitated, maybe hurt. It won’t help their cause to piss it off further. “Here,” he says, fumbling for the styler at his wrist. “Take this, calm it down.”

Zuko stares at it like he’s being served Pikachu pellets for dinner. “I’ve got no idea how to use that,” he says. 

Sokka thrusts it at him. “Take it. I can’t, I’m in bad shape. Just let it go and, fuck, I don’t know. Think happy thoughts.”

Zuko curses and snatches the styler. He clicks it on, and the capture disc whirs to life. He steps forward with Medicham at his side.

Steelix thrashes, whipping its tail forward. Zuko manages to dodge, tripping and landing hard on his back before scrambling upright. But Medicham advances instead, not moving quickly enough, and takes a hard swipe to the body. It’s thrown far against the tunnel wall and slumps to the ground. Zuko lets out a frustrated snarl and calls it back. 

“Zuko!” Sokka yells, before he can snatch another pokéball from his belt. “Capture it!”

The tunnel is shaking violently with every movement from Steelix, and Sokka can’t be sure how long it’s going to hold. They need to deal with this, now. His pulse is racing as he sees naked fear flash across Zuko’s face. It’s the most vulnerable expression he’s seen on the other boy so far. 

Shit, Sokka’s first capture in school was a Magikarp. Not exactly big fish. What he’s asking of Zuko is, he’ll admit, insane and unfair. Yet he knows that it’s not the pokémon doing this, not by choice. 

Sokka tries to smile encouragingly through his own persistent fear. He sees Zuko’s throat bob as he swallows, but he turns to face the Steelix and throws out the capture disc. 

It’s a sloppy first attempt—Steelix breaks the capture line as soon as it’s unspooled, and it snaps back to the disc. Zuko throws again, and gets a few loops to connect before the pokémon thrashes, undoing it all. 

Steelix roars, deafening in the cavern. Zuko’s eyes flash to Sokka’s, wide with panic as he dodges another twist of Steelix’s tail. 

“Kinaak, buddy,” Sokka says. The Wartortle pops his head up just enough to look at him. Sokka grins. “You’re brave, right? Braver than me. I need you to help out our new friend, okay?”

Kinaak ducks back into his shell.

“Please,” he pleads. He’s never asked more of his partner than what he’s been willing to do without request, but he’s desperate. “Please, buddy.”

Nothing. Sokka turns back to Zuko, nearly backed into a corner and trying to placate the Steelix. 

“Hey!” he shouts. “Hey, over here!” He waves an arm, trying to catch Steelix’s attention. If he can distract it from Zuko long enough, maybe he can capture it. “Need a polish, you big shiny worm? This way!”

It works, but relief lasts only an instant before he realizes that now _he’s_ the one that has god knows how many tons of angry pokémon barreling towards him. Zuko shouts something that he can’t hear over the scrape of rock and the heartbeat staccato in his head. 

Sokka throws an arm over his eyes. 

He’ll accept that he’s definitely going to die today, but he doesn't want to watch it happen, thank you. 

He doesn’t die. The cavern stops shaking as Steelix suddenly halts with a surprised groan. Sokka lowers his arm to see Kinaak in front of him, a massive stream of bubbles pouring from his mouth. It’s larger than any attack Sokka’s seen from the Wartortle, possibly ever.

Time for pride later. The Steelix is shaking its head, trying to clear itself of the water attack, but it hasn’t bought them long.

“Zuko, now!” he shouts. 

The capture disc flies out again, circling Steelix rapidly as Zuko conducts it from across the tunnel. Kinaak keeps up his distraction, now interspersing it with water gun attacks. None of it hurts the larger pokémon, but it’s enough to keep it still for the capture line to weave around it. 

Finally, the line connects in enough loops that Steelix’s frantic jerking settles to small twitches. It roars once more, loud and resigned, before laying its head down. 

“Good work, Kinaak,” Sokka breathes. “Zuko! That’s good, I think it’s okay now!”

Zuko calls the capture disc back to the styler and runs to meet Sokka. His face is flushed and he’s breathing hard, but he scans Sokka before examining the Steelix. Its eyes are hooded, the low vibration of its breathing the only motion from it. 

“What do we do with it now?” Zuko asks. 

“Release it,” Sokka says. “It should be calm now. They’re not usually at surface level like this, so with any luck it’ll head back to its den. I’ll send some rangers out to double check later, once the tunnel is safe again.”

Zuko passes Sokka the styler with a nod, and he pretends not to see the way his pale fingers tremble ever so slightly. He almost doesn’t hear the whispered, “Be careful,” as their hands brush. 

Sokka presses a switch on the styler and clasps it back onto his arm. Steelix’s eyes flare just slightly as he does, but the pokémon makes no move to attack or leave. “You can go, buddy,” Sokka tells him. “Sorry about all the trouble. You’re good now, right? Take it easy out there.”

Steelix blinks, once, twice, before turning slowly to head back the way it came. The cavern shakes, but less aggressively than before. Zuko doesn’t say anything until the tremors are gone, the pokémon too far away to hear them anymore. 

“What was that about?” Zuko says. His voice is hoarse, even though Sokka can’t recall him yelling all that much. 

“Dunno,” he says. “We’ll figure it out later. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Zuko has to half-carry Sokka to the exit, but he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. He’s fuzzy, his head swimming with pain and exhaustion. The blinding sunlight that warms his face as they finally step out of the Kolau Tunnel hardly registers.

He feels lightheaded. Time to sit. 

He doesn’t so much as think it before his legs give and he slumps to the ground. Zuko crouches beside him, arm still around Sokka’s back. 

“Okay, yeah, sure,” he mutters. “I guess this is fine.”

“Sorry,” Sokka groans. His eyes are closed, and he needs sleep. “Just give me a minute.”

Zuko shifts so that he can lower Sokka to the ground fully. It’s gentle, almost caring, the way he cradles the back of his head and settles him onto the grass. 

Yeah, sleep sounds fucking fantastic right now. 

Zuko doesn’t let him sleep. Sokka’s shirt is peeled up and sharp pressure on his chest makes him gasp. He flings his eyes open to glare at Zuko. “The hell, man?”

Zuko barely spares him a glance before prodding at his ribs again. “I think some are broken. Cracked, at least.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“That, uh, that may have been my fault. I sort of...fell. On you.”

“Not like you could help it,” Sokka points out. “No worries.”

“How’s the leg?”

Sokka hasn’t been paying attention, but he rolls out his ankle now. “Not bad,” he says. “Better than the ribs. Whose blood are you covered in?”

Zuko looks at his hands and blinks, like he’s surprised to see the red coating them. “Um. Yours, I think. You’ve got a couple nasty scrapes, but nothing major. A cut on your head that looks worse than it is. I’m barely bruised.”

Sokka tips his head back again. “Cool,” he sighs. “Kinaak, little help, pal?”

The Wartortle waddles over and shoots Zuko a glare. He mutters an apology under his breath and moves to allow Kinaak nearer Sokka, where he spits water over Sokka’s skin to wash it. Zuko stands but comes back a moment later with a cloth from his bag, wiping gently at the scrapes to help clean them. 

That’s when Sokka realizes he doesn't have his own bag. It must have been flung away from him in the tunnel, and in the commotion he didn’t notice. He groans, and Zuko gives him a curious glance. 

“Just figuring out that my bag is back somewhere under all that rock,” he explains.

Zuko’s hands still for a second before going back to tending Sokka’s skin. “We have enough supplies in mine,” he says. “Get yours back later, if you can.”

Sokka nods, then winces as Zuko hits a tender spot. “We seem to be in this position a lot, you and I.”

Zuko’s face colours, but he only asks, “Do you have a phone? I was going to get one once I got to Gaipan.”

“Ah, no. But we can get in touch with Katara through my styler. Here, let me…” he paws at it and tries to bring up the text function. “Fuck.”

Zuko sighs, preempting the news. “I’m going to guess that there’s no service.”

“You win a prize, my friend. Guess we’re too deep in the rock for that, or it got banged up in there.”

“Can they still find our location? You said they track that stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sure they will. And everyone at the base knew where we were going. Haru’s expecting us in Gaipan by day after tomorrow, so the worst case scenario is they wait until then to send someone.”

Zuko sits back on his heels and looks at the tunnel entrance. “I could—”

“No!” Sokka cuts him off. “Nobody is going back in there alone. Okay?”

Zuko gives him a sharp look like he wants to argue. If he does, Sokka’s happy to push back. Does he think Zuko’s going to leave him to die out here? No, not at this point. Does he want to be left alone for even a few hours without his equipment, when Zuko can hardly use a styler? Hell no. 

“Fine,” Zuko says, after a long moment. “Then we better set up camp. I think we’ll be here for the night.”

Sokka props himself up on his elbows and groans, tugging the top of his uniform back down. Zuko’s there immediately, hands hovering behind Sokka’s head and back, fingers pressing lightly against him to help him sit up all the way. He’s panting by the time he does. “Shit, man. I wish we had some of those potions of yours right about now.”

“Me too,” Zuko says. “Come here. Let’s get a little farther away from the cave. Then you can rest while I start a fire.”

Sokka leans gratefully into Zuko as he helps him up again and leads them into the trees away from the tunnel. He’s deposited at the base of a tree with their bags of supplies, Kinaak at his side. Zuko steps back and lets his Arcanine out. 

She’s defensive immediately, teeth bared when she sees Sokka. “Inu,” Zuko says, a little sharply. “Be nice. Watch out for him.”

Zuko stalks away with a pointed look between Sokka and his pokémon. Kinaak huffs and spits a small stream of water over Sokka’s shoulder. Just because he’s petty like that. Inu snarls, low and warningly. 

“I hear you, girl,” Sokka says. “Sit, stay. I got it.”

That’s not a problem. He tries to stay awake, to help Zuko if and when he needs it. But it’s fighting a losing battle, and when Kinaak settles beside him, Sokka drifts off in minutes.


End file.
